


Sanctify

by ysbelldelaurentis



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Assassination Attempt(s), Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Fated Enemies, King Bokuto, King Oikawa, M/M, Medieval Fantasy AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, assassin akaashi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-07 05:37:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15212354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ysbelldelaurentis/pseuds/ysbelldelaurentis
Summary: In a world where everyone had their soulmate’s mark on one arm and their fated enemy’s on the other, he was cursed. Unlike most people, he did not have to wonder which was which. His whole arms and most of his back was covered in black and gold ink, two identical dragons slithering across his body, each starting from one of his arms.He could not be with his soulmate, because they would be his greatest enemy. He could not hurt his fated enemy, because nobody can physically hurt, intentionally or not, their soulmate.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Akaashi sat in a corner of his room holding a teddy bear, watching the scene in front of him. He did not blink when those strangers grabbed his father or forced him to his knees. He saw this so many times before during their exercises he could not bring himself to care. He wanted to go back to sleep.

 

“Sweetheart, could you please kill these men?” his father asked him as one of the strangers punched him in the face.

 

“But,” he said pouting, “he would take Mr Bear if I do.”

 

“Well, he can’t take anything from you if he’s dead, can he? So please, show them what I trained you for.”

 

Akaashi did not like killing people, but if his father wanted him to, they had to be bad ones, he tried to reason. They had uniforms he had never seen before and cruel faces partly hidden behind their helmets. Their torsos were covered with chain mail, but their legs were almost bare, protected only by a thin layer of fabric.

 

He allowed himself a minute to ponder. The best way to go for the kill would be to hit the femoral artery. The opening was still partly covered by chain mail, but his small height would make it easier. He grabbed the knife he had always hidden inside the opening in Mr Bear.

 

“It would be easy,” he whispered to himself. Rush forward. Strike the man holding his father. Dodge an attack of another one. Use the opening to kill him. Bounce from a bed into the air. Land on the back of the third man. Stab him through the helmet into an eye while he was still in shock. Slide down and slit his femoral vein, just in case.

 

There was so much blood. At least they were dead almost immediately, but bleeding out on his new carpet was a bit impolite. It would be a drag to clean everything up, especially if the blood seeped into the wood flooring.

 

“You didn’t have to be so messy, Keiji,” his father reprimanded him.

 

“I didn’t have any poison to coat my knife with. Was it for real this time or another one of your exercises? “he asked, a little bit annoyed. He wanted to go to sleep.

 

“They were men from Fukurodani. They wanted to kidnap me as a hostage. I heard they want to go to war with us,” his father explained to him, but Keiji couldn’t believe him.

 

“Prince Bokuto would never allow such a thing! He is honourable and noble. He is a great warrior and I admire him,” Akaashi blurted out.

 

His father glared at him furiously. “Do not forget where your loyalties lie, because I will not stand you fraternizing with the enemy. Now go and change into something that isn’t covered in blood, I’ll have the maids clean your room.”

 

Akaashi didn’t complain. He knew very well about his father’s disapproval of his admiration towards his idol, prince Bokuto. It was a wrong thing to say, especially if they were to go to war with Fukurodani. People wouldn’t want to think the King’s Head advisor’s son was a traitor.

 

He changed into fresh clothes as his father ordered, but he could not go to sleep. Instead, he wandered into the stables. His father would leave for the Royal city tomorrow, but he could not bring himself to care. He would be alone in the castle again, without anyone to talk to. Yes, there were many servants, but most were forbidden to talk to him and his fighting masters were all stone-hearted warriors. But Akaashi was glad.

 

In a world where everyone had their soulmate’s mark on one arm and their fated enemy’s on the other, he was cursed. Unlike most people, he did not have to wonder which was which. His whole arms and most of his back was covered in black and gold ink, two identical dragons slithering across his body, each starting from one of his arms.

 

He could not be with his soulmate, because they would be his greatest enemy. He could not hurt his fated enemy, because nobody can physically hurt, intentionally or not, their soulmate.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Akaashi Keiji was only fifteen when he watched Oikawa Tooru descend from his horse in front of the main gate to his home. He knew what it meant. The Mad King was dead and his father with him. He snickered under his breath so the servants fussing around wouldn’t notice. He was the only one who was not rushing around because of the new king.

  
He watched Oikawa Tooru so many times, usually because his father wanted him to. He was beautiful and knew how to use his good looks. Most people saw him as vain and arrogant, but Akaashi knew better. That didn’t mean he wanted to serve him.

  
He hid up on the beams, watching Oikawa squirm on the luxurious sofa, waiting. He had to know he was there, even though he should not even know about his existence. No one besides the servants knew much about him, even though the rumours about the Cursed child of Akaashi manor proceeded him.

  
He jumped down from the beam right in front of Oikawa, the spears of his guards immediately pointed towards him. It did not matter to him, he just enjoyed the surprised look on Oikawa’s face. “Did you come to tell me about my father’s death, Your Highness?”

  
“How do you know about my father’s or Akaashi-san’s death?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

  
“I know my father better than anyone. I knew it was coming, the Mad King had to die sooner or later. And judging from the fact that you came and not my father, his plan backfired and he was killed. The real question is, what do you want from me?”

  
“To tell the truth, I didn’t come for you. I didn’t even know Akaashi-san had a son before I came here and I heard about you. You knew my father would be assassinated? You know who had done it? And why didn’t I know about you?”

  
He was confused, I could tell, but that didn’t mean I would tell him more than absolutely necessary. I did not want to serve him like I did my father. I wanted to be free.

  
“You have too many questions, Your Highness. I can answer all of them once you promise me one thing,” he said carefully. Oikawa could have quite the temper when it came to some things. He did not want to anger him.

  
“What do you want? Money? Land? Titles? You can have anything you want if you help me find out who did this,” he said in an icy voice.

  
“I don’t care about such things. I want freedom. I don’t want to be anyone’s subject. Give me this and my services are yours.”

  
“Fine. I don’t know why you care so much, but so be it. From now on, you are neither my subject nor a citizen of Seijoh. You do not have to answer to any Master. Now, who killed my father?”

  
He was quiet for a while, thinking about how to word what he wanted to say. It was a long time since he had to watch his mouth.

  
“I am almost entirely sure my father, Akaashi Kouta, arranged the assassination. It is possible he used the White Hand, a guild of assassins from the north since he used them many times before, but this does not sound like them. There is one more well-known guild, Shinoganbo, but they work mostly in Fukurodani. I would have to see the bodies to know for sure, though.“

  
“Good. You’ll come with us. For now, I have one last question. Who are you?”

  
“My name is Akaashi Keiji, but I guess that is not what you asked. Here, they know me as the Cursed Child, but for our fathers, I am the Royal Assassin.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Akaashi sprawled across the base of Oikawa’s throne, glancing up amused. He was glad his friend was thinking about something else than the constant war between Seijoh and Fukurodani, but that did not mean he did not find it silly how frustrated he became once dealing with Akaashi and his utter obliviousness towards anything fashion or style.

  
“Why does it mean so much to you? I will hide somewhere once the whole business starts,” he stated.

  
“Because you have so much potential! People like me have to waste hours maintaining their appearance and you roll out of bed like that and still look better. How cruel is that? Besides, there may be one thing I will need from you.”

  
“You want to run a heist on your own birthday party? One would think that would practically break your heart,” Akaashi snickered behind his hand. Everyone knew how Oikawa loved organizing his birthday party. Every detail had to be perfect, no matter what.

  
“I was thinking a lot about security after you informed me about their intentions to kidnap me and I had an excellent solution. What if we let them?”

  
Akaashi was instantly rising, gaping at his friend in disbelief. “Have you gone mad? Or do you have a death wish? There is no way you would convince me to arrange your own suicide!”

  
“Be careful, Kaashi-kun, someone could get the impression you care about me. But hear me out, it is not as foolish as it looks. Instead of trying to figure out how to keep them out, we pretend as if we relaxed our guard and let them infiltrate the party. And because it will be a masquerade like every year, you can go in my place and have yourself captured. You mentioned the King Bokuto wanted to show up himself.”

 

“Why would I do that? I’d slaughter them as soon as they grabbed me and I’m not a decent enough actor to play a damsel in distress. Ask someone else.”

  
“I need someone to be a mediator for me, who would help me settle a treaty between our two nations, but the King lets no one near him. This is our perfect chance! You know I’d send Iwa-chan, but I can’t. I realize I’m asking too much from you this time…” Oikawa made his puppy eyes and Akaashi could not help himself but to be sorry for his friend. He saw what toll the war had on him, how much he endured. And expecting him to send his soulmate would be brutal, even for Akaashi.

  
“If you force me to wear something abhorrent, I’ll kill you myself,” he threatened before leaving Oikawa. He needed to prepare.

  
If the formal attire required for this party had positive parts to it, it was how much weapons you could pack into its folds without raising suspicion. Firstly, he would need a sword, or to be more specific, one that could pass as a decorative one while still being usable. He could not hide a bow and arrows, but he definitely could have his darts somewhere. At least dozen of them, nicely coated in poison.

  
***

 Akaashi was restless. There was still a week left until Oikawa’s birthday party, but he still felt antsy. It was so unlike him to worry this much about a mission. Mission, that was what he wanted to call it. It wouldn’t be any different from all the other jobs he did for Oikawa, he tried to reason with himself. But deep down, he was wrong.

  
Akaashi knew he was not a good diplomat. Hell, he was not even good with people, always appearing distant and arrogant. He did not understand how he was supposed to help create a treaty between two kingdoms that were at war for almost a decade. The killing part, he had mastered. He could escape any place, no matter how fortified. But they also knew him, between certain circles, for his job. Few people wanted to negotiate with an assassin.

  
But the thing that weighted his mind the most was not his lack of communication skills. He was worried about meeting his childhood idol and his biggest disappointment, King of Fukurodani, face to face. He had seen him many times before, but then he was safely tucked into shadows, hidden from everyone’s sight.

  
He could still remember the first time he had seen him. He was only seven, travelling with his father to Fukurodani for the first time. Bokuto was hiding behind his own father’s throne and even though he was two years older than Akaashi, his eyes held certain softness in them that melted Akaashi’s heart. For the first time, Akaashi wanted to step out of the shadows and be seen. But he couldn’t, because officially, Akaashi Keiji did not exist.

  
He had seen Bokuto spar that day and his admiration was born. The moment he took his sword into his hands, he became a man, a warrior. He was noble like a hero, everything Akaashi could never be. From that day on, Akaashi prayed every day for Bokuto to come and save him from his father, dry his tears and tell him he was not the monster everyone saw him as.

  
But Bokuto never came. The only gifts he sent were assassins and mercenaries to kill his father and destroy his home. He wanted to believe it was not Bokuto’s work, but every new assault proved him otherwise. And then he gave up hope. Hope in Bokuto, in heroes, in being saved.

  
He knew it was not Bokuto’s fault and he did not blame him for his suffering. He didn’t even blame him for the war and death that spread through Seijoh like a wildfire. No, he knew his bitterness was his own doing.

  
He didn’t want to meet Bokuto because of a different thing. He did not want to hope again. Because hope means expectations and having expectations leads to being let down, to pain. No, he made his comfort in the shadows now and he needed no one to pull him out of the darkness.

  
He’ll just have to pretend as if he never met him. Easy, right?

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Do you need to put that on my face? I’ll have it covered with a mask anyway,” Akaashi protested.

“You must let me enjoy myself this time. You will represent me, remember? We want you to be the most exquisite thing in the room.”

Akaashi observed himself in the mirror and frowned. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like what he was seeing, Oikawa did a brilliant job and he looked beautiful, but the person staring back at him wasn't quite himself. His skin had a healthy tanned tone now instead of his usual deathly pale one, not to talk about the eyeshadows and mascara contouring his face into someone else.

His clothing was all gold except for a long coat that matched his mask from peacock feathers. When he put both the wig and the mask on, even he could believe he was Oikawa for a while, save for his eyes, moss green instead of honey brown.

***

“Here comes His Highness, Oikawa Tooru, the rightful King of Seijoh and King consort Iwaizumi Hajime!” said a man at the door to the grand ballroom and everyone went down on their knees.

Akaashi took his sweet time reaching the throne before sitting down next to Iwaizumi-san. “What do you think, Iwa-chan?” he asked in his sweetest voice he mastered while making fun of Oikawa. Iwaizumi scoffed, half in surprise and half in worry it was Oikawa under the mask.

Two hours in, Akaashi was overcome by an inexplicable urge to beat someone up with a chair. Why would so many people want to talk to Oikawa? They did not even need anything important, only pleasantries and small talk. He had to concentrate not to frown at everyone, keeping on his Oikawa staple smile instead. When was the last he showed this much teeth without growling?

“Let’s dance,” he leaned towards Iwaizumi, brushing his cheek with his fingers like he had seen do Oikawa so many times before.

He let Iwaizumi lead him into the middle of the dancing floor before leaning in, whispering in his ear: “If another middle-aged woman winks at me, I will puke at her.”

“You know you can’t avoid them by dancing forever, right?” he snickered, enjoying his suffering.

Akaashi genuinely laughed for the first time that evening. “Watch me.”

And he danced. He danced with everyone and anyone, becoming a mere swirl of fabric, laughing at things he did not find funny and flattering people he despised. Akaashi wanted to forget about his mission, drinking champagne, glass after glass after glass, even though he knew he should not be drunk, but that moment he couldn’t care less.

Akaashi watched as the golden liquid swirled around, looking up only as someone’s shadow covered his face. He saw a man in an owl mask, the only part of his face visible were his lips curled into a smile and eyes the same colour as the champagne. He looked back at his glass if his eyes were playing tricks on him and when he looked up, the king of Fukurodani would be gone. But he wasn’t. He was standing there, looking at him as if he were his pray. Well, two could play this game.

 “May I have a dance?” Akaashi asked with glee, knowing well he couldn’t turn him down without raising suspicion. It would cause a commotion if someone were to reject their king.

“But of course, Your Highness,” he answered before leading Akaashi to the parkette. Yes, he expected him to accept his proposal, but he also expected to lead. Akaashi may be shorter and overall smaller than the Dorito-shaped mountain of muscles that was Bokuto Koutarou because he was a king. Or at least he pretended to be.

All of that was forgotten the moment Bokuto’s palm landed on his side and their two bodies pressed so close together as if there was not enough room for them both. Air was caught in his lungs and he could neither breathe in nor our. His skin was scorching in every place they were touching. Akaashi had to remember how to waltz again.

Backwards, right, forward, left. Backwards, rights, forward, left. Rotate to the right. Backwards, right, forward, left. Predict what he is going to do next. Let him move his body as if he were a doll. Feel every movement of his body, every stretch of a muscle. Stop thinking, dance.

They did not talk. Akaashi couldn’t let out even the tiniest voice, but he was sure Bokuto could hear his winded breathing. That one dance, though only a few minutes long, left him more breathless than anything in years. He would have sworn it lasted both an eternity and a second at the same time. It was as if he fell asleep and had no idea how much time has passed. But was it a dream or a nightmare he had awoken from?

But he knew very well it wasn’t any of that, sobering up very quickly. They were here. He danced with a few more people to not be so suspicious and than going back to the throne. He tried to look as drunk as possible, swaying a bit in his steps. They were watching. The man in a cat mask didn’t even bother to conceal his blatant staring.

He leaned into Iwaizumi before planting a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m sick Iwa-chan, take me away.” He even slurred the end a bit.

However, he did not expect Iwaizumi to carry him bridal style out of the ballroom and all the way to their suite.

“T is going to kill us,” Akaashi giggled into his ear, afraid of even saying out loud Oikawa’s name. Sometimes even walls had ears and he was not willing to endanger the mission so easily.

***

 After almost half an hour of fake (and sometimes real) puking, he decided it was enough acting. If he were to stall for too long, they could leave or set the whole place on fire.

“I’m going on a stroll into the gardens, Iwa-chan!” he shouted into the silent room. There was no answer and he prayed Iwaizumi was somewhere safe with Oikawa.

Normally, he would jump down the balcony and jump down the trees on his way down, but that was not a thing Oikawa would do. So he dressed up again, put on his mask and strutted down the grand staircase. He had golden shoes with small heals that clicked like a clock on the marble surface.

The breeze in the gardens was strong enough to be cool him down without being uncomfortable and it made the smell of all the exotic flowers flow right into his face. He could almost forget about the rustling in the bushes, that could in any other situation be romantic, but unfortunately, it was because of the tiny movements of people who would kidnap him any minute now.

He gracefully plopped down on one of the many decorated benches that lined the path, but he did not even have time to release the pent-up breath before he had a gag in his mouth and someone held his hands behind his back. Akaashi pretended to struggle briefly before they put a linen bag over his head and pushed him forward.

Even in the dark, his orientation sense served him well. To tell the truth, it would be almost impossible to miss the stench of the sewers. Shortly after the smelly walk, he ended up being shoved into a carriage before they took off the bag from his head and, after a while, even the gag.

Akaashi appraised his surroundings for an escape plan. He was in a carriage that looked like a giant chest with wheels and a door. Sometimes these types had small windows on the side, but this one had a little one on top that could be closed in case of rain.

At least it was nice inside, filled with blankets and decorative pillows. The boy sitting in front of his was clearly nervous as hell. He was small with bright orange hair that looked like a little sun even in the dim compartment. His name was Hinata Shouyo, but he couldn’t mention that aloud, it wasn’t something Oikawa would know. Even such a seemingly insignificant information could raise suspicion and he couldn’t risk that.

Judging by the voices, both King Bokuto and his best friend and Head Chief of Fukurodani Council, Kuroo Tetsurou. He will be the one he will have to be the wariest of, meeting Oikawa on few occasions. The King has thankfully left the moment Akaashi was tucked away in the carriage. He could only hope the lack of light and his mask would do the rest.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“You don’t by any chance have a book and some lightning?” Akaashi asked Hinata after more than an hour of silence. He almost pitied the boy, so obviously nervous from his presence.

“Y-Y-Yes Your Highness! I will immediately ask Kuroo-san,” he yelped out before sticking his head and arms out of the ceiling window. He gesticulated something wildly before diving back in with an old book and an oil lamp.

“Thank you very much, I appreciate it. And your name? I guess it will be good six or seven hours before we even reach the border, so we can get to know each other a little in that time.“ 

“My name is Hinata Shouyo, Your Highness! I want to be the best fighter in Fukurodani!“ he said, now far more boldly. 

“Please call me Oikawa. So the best fighter in Fukurodani? I heard your own king was pretty good. Do you want to challenge him to a duel?“ he asked with amusement as Souyou’s expression became puzzled. 

“After a short while, he answered: “Bokuto-san is the bestest, so I want to be as good as him one day. When he fights, it’s all Whoosh! And Bam!“ 

Akaashi laughed. He started to like the kid, it would be a shame if he would have to kill him. Well, he’ll just have to be careful. They talked, or to be more precise Hinata talked, for almost three hours before the carriage abruptly stopped. Akaashi would be propelled forward and into Hinata’s lap if it weren’t for his hands gripping the sides of the carriage and quick reflexes.

“What’s that, Sho-chan?” Akaashi asked before Hinata jumped out of the door. He sighed, resting his head against the wooden wall. He just hoped they did not get caught, wasting all the time he and Oikawa put into the operation for it to run smoothly.

Than Akaashi laughed quietly. Hinata was in such a rush he didn’t even bother to close the door. If he were Oikawa right now, he could already be on the run. Judging by the smell, humidity and time they were on their way, not to speak about the little bit he could see through the door, they were in the middle of the Avalon forest. Paths here were narrow and scarce and trees tall and close to one another.

If he were to escape, now would probably be the best time to do it. Avalon forest was too dense even for horses, who had trouble navigating between the trees and often ended up tripping over roots that grew on the surface. He could easily hide somewhere and wait till nightfall and then run back along the road.

The door suddenly closed, as well as the ceiling window. His lamp burned out almost half an hour ago. For the first time, he was in a complete darkness. It was like a tomb. With the clapping of horseshoes and a soft hum of conversation from outside, he fell asleep covered with one of the many satin blankets. 

The first thing he realized when he woke up was how cold it was. They must have crossed the border to Fukurodani while he slept. The second thing was a pair of eyes staring right back at him. It took Akaashi several minutes before he got used to the dark and was able to distinguish other parts of the person keeping him company.

He was sure he’d already seen the lanky man with short blonde hair before. Akaashi forced himself to stop staring after he spotted the smirk playing on his lips.

“I hope you have slept well, King,” he said in a way that implied that he had no interest in his wellbeing at all. Suddenly he remembered his name, almost synonymous with snarky remarks and salty personality. Tsukishima Kei.

Akaashi sprawled across the cushions, maintain eye contact with Tsukishima the whole time, like a cat who is somewhere it is not allowed to go. Two could play this game and if there were two things Akaashi hated, it was being made fun of and losing.

“Thank you, it pleases me you care about me so much. The cushions are very comfortable if you ask me. If you didn’t kidnap me, I would say you are almost decent people, but the world isn’t ideal, is it?”

“Oh no! Would you so generously bestow us an honour to feed you breakfast or are we too low-class for that as well?”

Akaashi laughed. “After lengthy consideration, I decided you may present me with food of your choosing, young peasant,” he made a perfect posh accent.

“You’re not bad, King. I might not even poison the food,” Tsukishima snickered, now in a better mood.

“You would do that to your dear friend?” Akaashi asked in a horrified tone, dramatically clutching his chest. “I must admit that would put quite the damper on our relationship.”

They bantered for a while before another boy brought Akaashi his food and a water flask. He did not realize how hungry he was until he tasted the oatmeal they gave him. It was nothing fancy, but it had few wild berries on top, so he decided it could have been much worse.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Akaashi’s legs were weak at the knees when they pushed him out of the carriage, his breathing so fast as if he ran a whole marathon instead of just sitting on his ass for hours. This was not his strong suit. Crawling in the shadows, watching other people’s lives pass by, however mundane, he didn’t mind. But he became blind once put under the spotlight. Being invisible was what he was good at, not this.

Fukurodani King’s castle was more a fortress than a palace with its thick stone walls, a drawbridge and many towers. Not only it was good at keeping people out, but also not letting them in. The infamous Fukurodani prison was every criminal’s worst nightmare, almost impossible to escape, even with outside help.

The courtyard was empty, but not lifeless. They must have evacuated everyone before they arrived, not wanting to cause too much commotion or perhaps not to notify other kingdoms about what they had done. It was anticlimactic, in a way. He expected crowds jeering at him and throwing rotten food, a cold cell. Instead, they led him towards the Throne Room and if he didn’t know better, he would feel like a visitor rather than a captive.

That was before he was knocked down on his knees before King Bokuto, an armed guard on each side, poking into his back with their spears. Despite having his head forced down, he could clearly see the King with his head advisor, arguing animatedly. Akaashi decided he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to reveal himself.

“I know this might not be the best time to tell you that, and I understand if you are a little bit angry with me, but I think you’ve got the wrong man,” he said in a stage whisper.

All of their heads turned towards him and in a second, Tsukishima was tugging his mask off, along with the wig. The guards gripped his coat, trying to force him to come forward until a shaky voice stopped them.

“Do not touch him. If you value your lives, everyone get away from him,” Kuroo Tetsurou said. “I think we’ve led the devil right into our home.”

“It is my pleasure meeting all of you formally for the first time, especially you, Your Highness,” Akaashi bowed down before meeting eyes with Bokuto Koutarou for the first time. It was unmistakably him, his mysterious dancer, but his gaze was even more intense than before, causing him trouble to stand straight. “Besides, calling me the devil is a little low, don’t you think, Kuroo-san? I haven’t come to kill any of you today.”

“Then why are you here? Oikawa would hardly send an assassin just to deliver gifts, would he?”

Akaashi fiddled with his hands, thinking through his answer. He did so many times before, but he still wasn’t a diplomat. “Our messengers never reached you and we all know how you would react if I came outright myself, so Oikawa came up with this elaborate scheme. I’m very sorry if I scared you, I am merely here to try to negotiate between Seijoh and Fukurodani.”

“Negotiate what?” the King spoke for the first time, cocking his head to the side in interest.

“A peace treaty,” Akaashi said quietly as if he were afraid of the atrocity of his words. “He is willing to unblock the rivers and send your people food. He doesn’t want to fight.”

“I didn’t know The Cursed Child served the Seijoh King,” Kuroo interjected. Unlike Bokuto, he had fear in his eyes instead of curiosity and rightfully so. They’ve met when Akaashi was just a small child on one of his first missions to kill a lord who captured the Kuroo family. Akaashi got lashed that night for not killing the witnesses.

“I serve no one. Oikawa Tooru is not my King, but he is my friend. I believe you have enough to think for today, so I’ll return tomorrow to discuss these matters further,” he said before jumping out of the window. It might have looked dramatic, but he knew there was a small roof below it he could jump on.

The first thing he had to do was to get rid of those horrible clothes, heading for a wash-house where he grabbed a simple white tunic, trousers, high leather boots and most importantly, a long cloak with a large hood. He left there few gold coins before dashing off into the city below.


	7. Chapter 7

“He was so hot,” Bokuto said once the assassin was gone, much to the dismay of his best friend.

“Haven’t you heard me? He is a killing machine, one that works for the enemy,” Kuroo was immediately on his feet as if he wanted to physically beat some sense into Bokuto.

“Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate his looks, right? And the jump out of the window was so cool too! Do you think I could do that? That’d be an awesome thing to do during the Council meetings,” he could not be deterred.

Kuroo started pacing across the throne room, making Kenma jump up every time he reached a wall and punched into it. “Calm down, I can’t concentrate and you’re making Bokuto fidgety. This is what you wanted, right? For Seijoh to make amendments and make the first step towards peace.”

“It is not that easy! Was it anyone else, I would be jumping with joy, but this is the Cursed Child. We will be dead the moment we displease him. He must be sent away no matter what.”

Before anyone could react, Bokuto burst out, the joking mood gone: “He isn’t going anywhere without me saying so! I don’t care if he murdered my father or anyone else, if it means we have the slightest chance at peace, I will forget any of his wrongdoings.”

He stormed out of the throne room and into the castle’s many hallways, not without banging the heavy double doors for the whole castle to know he was mad and not to disturb him. “I just wanted to let you know this is all your fault,” Kenma said without looking up.

Kuroo plopped down next to him, sneaking his arms around Kenma’s torso and resting his head on his shoulder. “I just don’t like it. I know how much this means, but he is too unpredictable. I don’t want to see the day when he betrays us or when he kills Bo.”

“You are afraid. He hunted your nightmares for so long and you needed someone to blame for everything, you villainized him. I did not want to tell you because of your reaction, but do you think he never caught me sneaking through Seijoh? He could have given me to King Oikawa long time ago, but he gives me brainteasers instead and makes fun of Oikawa. He was here already, he had so many chances to kill us.”

Kuroo’s grip tightened against Kenma’s ribcage. He could have felt his inner turmoil like waves crashing against his back, the hum of an ocean before the storm. “How did you know he was here? Did he tell you? Just the thought of him watching me without me knowing gives me creeps.”

“He talked about Fukurodani a lot, but I never met him here. Every time he was there, he left some sweets in my secret hideout and a single daffodil before Bokuto’s door. I had the servants remove it every time, so he didn’t notice.”

“If we fuck this up, Seijoh won’t be sending another one, will they?”

“Peacemakers? No. Assassins? Probably yes.


	8. Chapter 8

Bokuto slammed the door behind him with all the force he could muster before dashing off. He knew he should have stayed and discussed the way-too-complicated situation like an adult, but he decided to screw his responsibilities instead. There were consequences to this, Kuroo’s shit-eating grin definitely not the worst of them, but he would live. Right now, he needed a few hours to sulk.

He made a sharp turn, lifted one of the tapestries and disappeared into the small hall behind it. His departure, however, didn’t go unnoticed as he almost straight up slammed it no one of the maids passing through the narrow corridor. At first, he wanted to go to his room and hide under a mountain of pillows and blankets, but that would be the first place they would search. Besides, his pillow forts were not exactly hard to find.

Then there were the watchtowers, but these were filled with soldiers, who weren’t very good at lending shoulders to cry on or keeping secrets. No, he would be found there right away. He could stay in one of the corridors for servants, since there were hundreds of them and very few people besides himself knew more than few paths they actually used, but sounds carry out in them and the last thing he wanted was the ringmaster checking out on him again or a maid tripping over him and breaking her arm like last time.

As he listened to his steps echo against the bare walls, he got an awesome idea. There was one watchtower that was not being used since the wall next to it was destroyed and then rebuild further away, with a homey pub at its base. No one went there anymore, and he never hid there before, so it would be very low on the list of places they would search. Brilliant! How had he not thought about it before?

Standing in front of the door leading inside of the watchtower, he realised why. It was barred from the inside, maybe even walled up.  The only other way was through the said pub, but there was a catch. Its owner may have fooled him with his soft eyes, silvery hair and a beauty mark before, but he was way too scary for Bokuto. He met him before and was not allowed to leave for more than three hours before confiding in the man with all of his troubles. When he tried to leave, he only got a soft pat on his head and a look that promised that if he tried to leave while he got him another cup of hot chocolate, he will get his ass whooped. On the other hand, it would be very funny to watch Kuroo try to take him away from there.

No, Bokuto would climb in through the little window.

***

After getting a decent cloak with a hood big enough to cover his face but not enough to look out of place, he headed towards the outskirts of the city. On his way, he passed a wall covered in wanted posters with drawn faces of criminals. He stopped in his tracks, looking for his own face. There were few that could possibly match few of his features, but those were mostly for petty crimes he did not commit.

“Are you a criminal?” an old raspy voice came from behind him. It was an old beggar with wrinkles as deep as great river canyons, but with two bright eyes that twinkled under his tousled hair.

“Not in here, it seems,” Akaashi replied before spilling all of his leftover money into the man's palms, “but if you see anyone looking for me, tell the bartender at Karasuno pub under the abandoned watchtower.” With that, he turned around on his heel and headed exactly there.

The whole building was nice and tidy, almost like a cottage of an old woman from fairy tales. Among run-down houses and small stores filled with stolen goods and obscure objects, it made you wonder if it was a front for some shady business.

But Akaashi was not interested in their ale and beer from actually clean mugs or food that wasn’t made from strays and rotten vegetables. It was nice knowing the worst you could get was one of their carrier-pigeons that for some reason displeased Suga. No, he was interested in something no other place could give him, no matter the price. He needed information, gossip and a safe place to stay.

Inside it was warm and lively as usual, but the moment he stepped into the chatter quieted. Not enough for it to be deathly quiet, but too dramatic for it to not go unnoticed by new patrons. Only Suga’s melodic voice did not go down, now in stark contrast to the rest of the room. Akaashi definitely did not like this much attention, but in places like these rumours spread like a plague. Of course, his unwillingness to talk and occasional arrivals in the middle of the night covered in blood or with an arrow poking from one arm did not help.

On his way to his usual seat, a man at least twice his size stood up, effectively blocking his way. While his pectoral muscles were certainly a sight to see, unlike his surreally ugly face dominated by a chopped off nose, he wanted to at least sit down before actually talking to someone. People these days had simply no manners.

 Akaashi decided he had enough and turned around, heading to the kitchen. The two rambunctious youngsters commanding it may have been one of the loudest creatures he knew, but at least they did all the talking themselves and required little participation. As if they sensed him thinking about them, two heads peaked out of the kitchen door.

“Akaashi, my man, where have you been?” Nishinoya and Tanaka yelled in unison.

Before he could answer, the man previously blocking his path grabbed his cloak and snarled into his face: “How dare you turn away from me you scum!”

Akaashi hooked his leg with his opponents, tearing him to the ground in one swift movement. With the man fully exposed on his back, it only took two hard kicks in his nether areas for him to writhe in pain. Truly no manners at all.

After the rather pressing matter had been dealt with, he could properly greet his, well, proximity associates. “Not here, obviously, thank you very much. It is nice to see you too Nishinoya-san, Tanaka-san. How are the pigeons doing?” He hoped some of them survived since he would need to send a letter to Oikawa about the mission.

“Akaashi-kun,” Suga cried out as if he just noticed him, “you look so worn out. Let’s get you something warm for your stomach and a nice hot bath! While we’re at it, you can tell your dear friend where you disappeared to for such a long time.”

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Bokuto was BORED. He knew two things. While jumping in, he landed badly on his ankle and now he couldn’t move without sharp pain. On the positive side of things, someone definitely lived there, so he may not die there and become a skeleton before they find him. Or at least die of hunger. Or thirst.

He sat on the small bed before looking around, trying to figure out who exactly lived here. The first thing that would catch anyone’s sight was weapon racks covering most of the walls with a range of weapons better than in their own armoury. He could marvel at the beauty of hand-carved bows and more exotic weapons than he could count for hours. At first, he would think it was armoury of some shady guild or a bunch of mercenaries, but other evidence said otherwise.

Considering numerous books laying on a single bookshelf above the bed and in neat piles around it and one opened chest filled to the brim with fancy dresses he could not picture anyone living here. His first guess was someone’s girlfriend taking care of the weapons, but there was no way she could sneak through the pub below in one of those dresses let alone through the window.

***

Akaashi was just about to open the door leading into his room in the watchtower but stopped himself when he heard slight scratching coming from there. It was most probably just a mouse or something, but he did not want to risk getting attacked while climbing through the floor. He would have to go to the backyard and then climb up the watchtower. If he was lucky, no one would be there and he could go to sleep at least for a while.

All thought of sleep went down the drain the moment he peeked into his room and saw a figure lounging casually on his bed. His heart stopped a few beats before freezing completely. Was the only safe space he had compromised? Pulling out one of his throwing daggers almost on instinct, he crouched before peeking further into the room.

The figure’s head was shrouded in darkness, but he aimed anyway. The dagger flew straight at its target before suddenly changing its trace by almost thirty degrees to the left where it was hanging from the wall. At first, Akaashi was exasperated, but all his anger changed into relief the moment Bokuto Koutarou’s face appeared in the light.

“Is anyone there? Kuroo?” he shouted as if someone just didn’t try to kill him. God.

Akaashi wanted to leave and wait till he got bored and left on his own accord, but even from this distance, it was obvious something was wrong with Bokuto’s feet, making his unprompted leave highly unlikely. And so he made the dumbest thing ever and jumped inside.

“What are you doing here?” Akaashi asked him before he could start screaming.

“I wanted some time alone and I found this place, but my foot got hurt while I jumped in and now I can’t leave? Do you think you could help me, kind stranger?” Of course, his hood. He couldn’t see his face and had no idea who he was.

“If I fix your foot, do you promise to never come here again?”

Instead of an answer, Bokuto just nodded enthusiastically, like a little child willing to sell his soul for another piece of cake. “If you scream, I’ll gag you,” Akaashi threatened under his breath before dropping on his knees before him.

He felt the ankle for any possible fractures, but thankfully it didn’t seem there were any. Just a sprained ankle. He jerked with it to return it back to its original place. He slapped his hand on Bokuto’s mouth just in time to muffle his cry.

Now he needed to know what to do next. Bokuto still could not very well climb the tower, so he had to be smuggled out through the pub. But not now. The possibility of anyone noticing him taking out the king could be fatal and his hideout compromised. Unfortunately, Bokuto’s looks weren’t exactly inconspicuous. No, they’d have to wait till nightfall. And he’d have to get a horse from Suga. He did not look forward to the questioning.

Akaashi turned to Bokuto: “Do not under any circumstances try to leave, I’ll be right back.”

***

Akaashi waited impassionately in place while Suga gave him The LookTM.  “So you have a boy in your room? And the king at that?” he snickered while putting a saddle on one of their horses.

“It’s not like that and you know it,” Akaashi tried to protest but to no avail. Suga was clearly on a mission to get him laid. Not that it would be anything new, but now he saw his chance and would not let go.

“But you had a crush on him! It was Bokuto-san this and Bokuto-san that, he was the only thing you ever talked about,” Suga laughed, reminiscing about old times. “You were so sad when he…”

No matter what he wanted to say, Akaashi didn’t let him finish. “I hate him, everything about him! He promised me, Suga, and now he doesn’t even remember me.”

“So you’ll be really bitter about it? You need to get laid.”

“Do I have to remind the last person you tried to set me up with tried to kill me?”

“Mistakes happen,” Suga just replied, but he didn’t push the matter further.

 


End file.
